


if (touched by love's own secret)

by oorrrt



Series: alive, with closed eyes [1]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sharing a Bed, kind of idk maybe not theres just general melancholia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 03:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20324233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorrrt/pseuds/oorrrt
Summary: realization shoots through dongju like a series of arrows from cupid's cliche little bow.  ugly laugh: arrow.  warm hands: arrow.  memories of voices husky in the early morning and chapped lips sharing hidden smiles and falling asleep tangled tightly around each other: arrow, arrow, arrow.fuck, he's in love with yeo hwanwoong.





	if (touched by love's own secret)

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to the video xion posted of himself squishing woong's cheeks to wake him up. please suspend your disbelief bc idk if e.e. cummings is highly translated in korea but let's pretend it is. title is also from him. anyways been too sad to write funny stuff so here's this instead
> 
> insp by oneus do it han river and one of the japan live oneus eps. and the chocolate vlive pops in too but i think u dont need to have watched any of them to follow this
> 
> playlist: slow dancing in the dark: joji / gone: lee changsub / city of stars: guitar cover by kangho lee / everything's good: jung ilhoon

The sound of light footsteps drags Dongju out of his reverie.

He looks up. It’s Hwanwoong. The dancer shuffles towards the kitchen and grabs a box of banana milk from the fridge. With the straw half up to his lips he turns and sees Dongju, flinches back in surprise.

Dongju grins. “Up late, hyung,” he says.

Hwanwoong sighs. “I was too hungry to sleep, but I’ve been trying to eat less at night.” He waves around the milk box as an explanation as he comes to curl up on the other end of the couch by Dongju’s feet. “What’s keeping you awake?”

“I’m just worried.” Dongju sticks his cold toes underneath Hwanwoong’s butt, and for once he’s met with no objection.

“About what? Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t want to bother you. We’re starting shooting pretty early tomorrow morning.”

“I have time. I’m drinking milk.” Hwanwoong smiles, scrunched eyes looking even sleepier than usual. Dongju thinks it’s a little cute. He feels bad for the fans that can’t see his hyung like this, but at the same time he likes knowing that it’s something only he can cherish. His brain catches up with his heart moments later, and he shakes away the thought.

“If you’re sure,” he says, scrutinizing Hwanwoong’s face. The older nods, so Dongju takes a deep breath and continues. “It’s not much, and it’s not anything new. I don’t know, I guess because it’s just us and Youngjo-hyung filming tomorrow. I’ve been thinking about that thing again? Seoho-hyung and Geonhak-hyung and Keonhee-hyung’s outing was really fun and I’m sure everyone’s going to love watching them. And now since we’re doing a similar thing I keep thinking it has to be just as good as theirs. But how can it be? You’re great in front of the camera. Youngjo-hyung is so charismatic and thoughtful even when he’s quiet. But I have nothing to contribute.”

Hwanwoong sips his milk. “Yeah, the hyungs and Keonhee’s episode was fun, but ours will be too. It’s not even like we _have _to be entertaining, they’re just filming us having a good time. And either way, you have plenty to contribute. Our fans are so fond of you! You’re cute and charming and people love that about you. That’s not nothing.”

“But it is, isn’t it?” Dongju picks. “Those aren’t things I _do. _At the end of the day all of you hyungs are skilled in so many ways, and I don’t match up to it at all. I can’t sing or rap or dance anywhere near as well as the rest of you. I’m not even that great on camera. I don’t have any special talents, I’m not funny or witty, I–”

“No,” Hwanwoong interrupts his train of thought with a warm hand on his leg. “We’ve been over this. Not that that makes those thoughts stupid. But I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. You’re not useless, you’ve contributed so much to our team, and we’re not Oneus without our maknae Xion. Being charming and charismatic _is_ a skill, and you’re one of the most charming and charismatic kids I’ve ever met. Skill you can always learn over time. We haven’t even debuted yet! And even after we do, you can keep becoming a better singer, a better dancer, a better performer. What’s the point of working as hard as we do for something, if we’re already perfect at it?”

Dongju runs a hand through his hair. “I guess.” He _has_ heard that many times, from Hwanwoong and the other members, and his anxieties usually tear the words apart no matter how good their intentions are. But in this moment, something about Hwanwoong’s hand on his leg, something about his voice a little husky from fatigue, calms Dongju down. “I feel better,” he tells him. “Thanks for talking to me.”

“Anytime, and I mean it.” Hwanwoong grossly slurps up the dregs of milk and crushes the box in his hand. “I’ll be right back; I’m going to use the bathroom.”

“It’s okay. I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Hwanwoong gets up and ruffles Dongju’s already messy hair. “Alright Doongdoongie.”

Dongju rolls his eyes at Hwanwoong’s retreating back. He takes a moment to recollect his thoughts before heading into their room.

He’s already tucked into his blanket, curled up with his stuffed bear, when he hears the door creak open. Hwanwoong makes his way over to the bed, and Dongju doesn’t think anything of it until he feels his hyung climbing the ladder up to _his _bed.

“What are you doing,” he hisses at Hwanwoong, who pulls the blanket half off Dongju’s body and squirms into it.

Hwanwoong gives Dongju a tight hug. “I’m sleeping here tonight!” he jokes.

Dongju huffs, pulls the blanket back over his legs, and turns to face the wall. When he doesn’t hear movement for a solid minute, he flips back around.

Hwanwoong is dead asleep. Arms still limply around Dongju’s waist.

And obviously they’ve hugged before. They’ve slept on the same bed before. Dongju’s gotten into the habit of hugging his hyung and kissing the back of his neck to the point Hwanwoong doesn’t even squirm when he does it anymore. They’re intimate and touchy all the time.

But something about this, right now. It’s late. And after talking about his worries, Dongju’s heart feels a little cracked open – just enough for something to creep in. He listens to Hwanwoong’s breathing; a gentle rhythm against the pressing darkness of the room. He’s not sure if he sleeps at all, that night.

***

Their debut stage goes well. It goes so well that Dongju wonders if there’s a catch, if he’s dreaming. The performance finishes without any major mistakes, the crowd seems to love them, they already have fans from all their predebut projects. Of course, there’s always things to improve. But for now, everything seems to be clicking into place.

But for some reason, Dongju feels awful.

As always, he’s not sure exactly what it is. He sits in the waiting room as a stylist gently fixes his hair. Keonhee’s teasing Seoho over his voice crack, Youngjo and Geonhak are off in a corner, quietly talking. And Hwanwoong is still bent over a small phone screen, eyes narrowed, monitoring their performance. Even after everyone else is satisfied, knows what they did well, what to change, Hwanwoong won’t tear his gaze off of the video.

Dongju wants to pull him away from it, take him aside, give him a hug and erase the creases of worry from his face. But something keeps him plastered to his seat. He watches the older through the mirror. Hwanwoong doesn’t notice.

At the end of the day, Dongju’s mind is spinning. He finds himself sitting alone at the back of the van as the rest of the members pile in.

“You alright?” Keonhee waves a hand in front of his face.

Dongju looks up. “Hm? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Geonhak pats his hair. “Are you sure? You’re looking a little rough.”

Dongju grimaces and bats his arm away. “I said I’m fine.” He peers around the van. Keonhee and Geonhak are sitting one row in front of him, Seoho’s ahead of them, and Youngjo’s in the passenger seat. “Where’s Woongie-hyung?” he asks.

Almost as if he spells him into existence, Hwanwoong yanks open the van door. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting,” he says. He looks more exhausted than Dongju feels.

Hwanwoong glances around the van before picking his way slowly to the back. He settles by Dongju’s side.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable next to Seoho-hyung?” Dongju asks.

Hwanwoong gives him an odd look. “Why, do you not want me here?”

Dongju crosses his arms. “It’s cramped back here. I was just looking out for you.”

The van starts making its way back home. Hwanwoong shifts around to lean back, closes his eyes. Dongju thinks he’s asleep when he speaks up, voice barely audible over the rumble of the engine. “Thought you might need me.”

“I never need you,” Dongju huffs.

Hwanwoong cracks his eyes open. “Is that so?”

Dongju stares at Hwanwoong’s eyebags, darker than usual with the remnants of hastily removed makeup. “…no.”

Hwanwoong’s smile is soft and breathtaking, occasionally illuminated by the passing streetlights. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong now,” he says. “No one’s listening.” 

“I’m not pretending.”

“You know what I think about, when I feel untethered?” Hwanwoong closes his eyes again. “When the moon goes around the Earth, it doesn’t falter. The sun doesn’t hesitate to shine. So many beautiful things are unwavering, and still they’re never wrong. Maybe we can all afford some confidence.” He opens his arms and gestures for Dongju to come closer.

Before he can overthink it, like he overthinks everything, Dongju slides closer and falls into the embrace. Hwanwoong is warm, as always, smells like cologne and sweat and hairspray. It’s a little gross, but Dongju feels his heartbeat steady, imagines it beating in time to Hwanwoong’s, in time to the music softly playing in the van. He wants to melt into the yellow-orange glow of the street, into its golden, unwavering lull.

***

Geonhak and Hwanwoong are close. Dongju’s not sure how he’s never noticed until now.

The three of them are on a team together, making chocolates for their Valentine’s Day vlive. Dongju looks over at the other team and thinks it’s unfair, because he knows he and Geonhak are so much better at crafts like this than the other members.

Soon, the small kitchen is filled with the warm scent of chocolate. Dongju busies himself melting the chocolate bits amongst the bustle of everything else. Without thinking, he pulls out the stirring stick and offers it to Hwanwoong.

Hwanwoong makes a face at him. “You want me to eat that? Just like that?”

They laugh it off, but Dongju now can’t stop thinking about his every action. Is he being weird? Can the members see him worrying? Can the fans? He feels like he’s on the brink of screwing something up, so he puts all his focus on making the chocolate.

Or he tries.

Half an hour or so in, Geonhak is also hyperfocused on the chocolate. He’s crafting each one so carefully Dongju thinks he can see his brain whirring with activity, and he feels bad intruding on it. So he tries to make himself helpful instead, melting the chocolate while Hwanwoong loses his concentration and starts reading the fans’ comments with Seoho.

He’s finally falling into a sort of pattern when Hwanwoong announces; “Leedo-hyung is going to do aegyo now!”

Dongju glances up to see Geonhak looking appalled. “Blow a kiss,” he suggests, grinning at the sight of his hyung’s discomfort.

Before Geonhak can escape the camera, Hwanwoong pulls him into a tight hug. Dongju looks back down at the chocolate. He tunes out the sound of their light bickering, before Hwanwoong’s voice reaches him loud and clear:

“Wait, you want to use _my_ hand?”

Dongju can’t help but look up again. His mouth twists into an involuntary smile and he hopes no one can see how bitter it is.

The sound of Geonhak kissing Hwanwoong’s hand echoes through the room. He wonders whether he imagines it. Hwanwoong comes back to his side and rubs his hand down Dongju’s shirt.

“Why are you wiping it off on me!” he says. His voice is too loud. Even he can tell.

After that it’s hopeless. Yes, Geonhak is touchy. He loves to hug his members, he loves to drape himself over Dongju too. And yes, Hwanwoong is cuddly too. In his strange trancelike state, the moments Hwanwoong touches him, grabs his hand, leans on him, stands close enough for him to feel the other’s body warmth, all stand out with a spotlight-like clarity.

But still. Geonhak and Hwanwoong. How naturally the two of them fit together, how they reach for each other in little, almost invisible motions. How they slip their hands together when they hug. Dongju thinks, if he counted each of the moments they share, they would outnumber the times any of the other members interact with each other.

He’s not sure why he’s counting.

***

Dongju likes doing little things for his hyungs. He likes to make sure they’re happy, even when they don’t notice. Most recently, he’s taken to tucking his hyungs into bed after they fall asleep. Despite being older than him, something about sleep brings out something youthful in their faces, something vulnerable. It’s cute.

Once in a while, Hwanwoong falls asleep before he does. It’s usually when he’s exceptionally tired, collapsing into odd positions clearly unprepared for bed. One night, he falls asleep contorted with one arm oddly bent above his head, phone by his face. Dongju takes the phone and plugs it in, gently extracts Hwanwoong’s’ arm from behind the pillow and rests it into a more natural position. As he pulls a blanket over his sleeping form, Hwanwoong stirs half-awake. He groans and swats Dongju away. “Stop bothering me!” he slurs. Whatever.

That’s cute too.

But usually, Hwanwoong’s the last one asleep. A day before they fly out to Japan, Dongju walks into the room to see Hwanwoong watching something in bed. All the other members are sleeping soundly despite only being early evening.

Dongju throws himself into Hwanwoong’s bed. Hwanwoong groans at him. “What is it?”

“I’m bored,” Dongju says.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

Dongju gets comfortable in Hwanwoong’s blanket. “I don’t know. Make me not bored.”

Hwanwoong sets down his phone. “A tall order, your highness.”

Dongju shoves his toes into Hwanwoong’s butt.

Hwanwoong pushes him away. They start wrestling in the little space they have in the twin bed until Dongju throws Hwanwoong’s arm into the bedframe. It loudly smacks into the wood.

Hwanwoong pauses and peers at Seoho’s bed. “Shh, everyone’s sleeping.”

Dongju takes the opportunity to kick at Hwanwoong. His foot collides with–

Hwanwoong gasps, eyes open wide. He throws Dongju onto the bed with renewed force. He raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t know _that_ was why you came to visit.”

Dongju turns away from Hwanwoong to hide his burning face. “Whatever. I’m going to sleep too.”

Hwanwoong gives him a weak push. “No, you’re not. This bed is too small.”

Dongju doesn’t budge.

“Just go to your own bed. We have to go to Japan tomorrow morning,” Hwanwoong pleads, but he doesn’t try to move Dongju again.

“Don’t want to.”

“You’re impossible.”

Dongju peeks back around at Hwanwoong. He doesn’t seem too annoyed, so he snuggles closer and shoves his face into his back.

He feels more than hears Hwanwoong’s long sigh. “Don’t get makeup on my shirt.”

“I don’t have any on,” Dongju mumbles into the soft fabric.

A few minutes later, Hwanwoong’s breath evens out. Dongju’s a little concerned for himself, that he’s falling asleep even later than Hwanwoong more often than not recently.

He’s so tuned into the sound of Hwanwoong sleeping that even Geonhak’s snores fade away. Time seems to blur, and he can’t even guess how long he lies there silently, holding Hwanwoong’s small, sleeping body. He forces his breathing to match his, so that his chest rises and falls in the same rhythm as the other.

Hwanwoong shifts, and reality clocks Dongju across the head. Suddenly, it’s too intimate. Dongju pulls his arms away a little too harshly. Hwanwoong groans. Voice raspy, he mumbles, “Get out. Too warm.”

Dongju already has a leg slung off the bed. He gets into his own bed, plugs in his headphones, and tries to tune out the sound of everyone else. The front of his body –where he had been pressed against Hwanwoong’s back just moments ago – feels too cold.

“Did it really bother you that much?” The cameras have all stopped rolling, and they’re finally wrapping up the first day in Japan. Hwanwoong’s looking at him as he slips on his jacket, gaze flickering between amused and wary.

Dongju raises an eyebrow at him. “Did _what_ bother me?”

“Me kicking you out of my bed. And telling you to get lost when you were putting me to sleep.”

Dongju goes back to changing. “No.”

“Then why did you mention it on camera?”

“All of our behind the scenes videos make me seem like I’m an asshole all the time. I wanted to prove I wasn’t.”

Hwanwoong lets out a short bark of laughter. Dongju doesn’t really know what to make of it. “So, repeatedly insisting that _I _love _you_ and then saying I bully you makes you a better person?”

“When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“It is dumb.”

Dongju pouts. He looks around the room to see if he’s needed anywhere else, or if there’s anywhere he can escape, but everyone seems to be fine doing their own thing. He picks a direction at random and walks away anyways.

Hwanwoong catches him on the shoulder. “You _were_ pissed, huh.” He looks a little too smug for Dongju’s liking. He pulls his shoulder out of Hwanwoong’s grasp.

“Woongie-hyung is being annoying,” he announces to the room.

No one bats an eye, except for Seoho, who calls from the other side: “He’s always annoying, Dongju.”

Hwanwoong clasps both of Dongju’s shoulders this time, and twirls him around to face each other. “How about I make it up to you? You can sleep in my bed tonight!”

“I said, I’m _not_ pissed. And how is that at all a sacrifice on your part? We’re all in hotel rooms and you have a big bed.”

Hwanwoong grins, charming as always. “I’ll go tell Keonhee to switch rooms with you. Who were you with? Seoho-hyung, right?”

Dongju doesn’t respond.

But he finds himself in Hwanwoong’s hotel room a few hours later, Keonhee having jumped at the prospect of switching roommates. “I’m tired of Woongie,” the lanky singer had said, practically throwing Dongju’s luggage into his arms and shoving him out of his own room.

He stands awkwardly in the doorway, fingers white where they clutch his bag. They were lucky this time to get two-person rooms, most of them with two twin beds, but Hwanwoong and formerly Keonhee’s room has one large queen-sized bed plopped squarely in the middle of the room.

Hwanwoong is on top of the sheets, leafing through a book, wearing a thin white t-shirt and boxers. He notices Dongju lingering by the door and sets his book down, stretching out into what he seems to think is a sexy pose.

“This is stupid,” Dongju says.

“Why don’t you come in?” Hwanwoong says, voice low.

Dongju doesn’t move. “You don’t even know how to read.”

Hwanwoong sits up and picks up his book. “Do too. Check this out.” He clears his throat. _“You are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.”_

Dongju slips off his shoes and tosses his bag onto the floor. “You’re reading _poetry?”_ He hopes the contempt is clear in his voice.

“I’m reading _American_ poetry. You could say I’m a man of culture.”

Dongju grabs his soap and goes to wash his face. Even from the bathroom, he has a full view of Hwanwoong, now lounging against the mountain of pillows on the bed. He must have asked for extras. His shirt is riding up a little, exposing a sliver of skin on his stomach, and Dongju suspects it’s on purpose. He takes his time in the bathroom, is a little disappointed when Hwanwoong doesn’t say anything about it, just continues to read his book.

He looks up when Dongju steps up to the bed. “You came for more poetry?”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the romantic, scholarly one. Don’t you think this is romantic?”

Dongju sits at the edge of the bed. “Why are you trying to be romantic?”

“I’m trying out romantic as a new concept. Is it a good look on me?”

“No. This isn’t some sort of drama.”

Hwanwoong puts his book on the nightstand and rolls over, face now mimicking that of an excited teenage girl at a sleepover. “Wouldn’t that be nice though? If life were a movie?”

“Lots of movies are bad,” Dongju points out.

“If life were a bad movie, it would be even better,” Hwanwoong insists.

“It’s already like a bad movie. Everything’s predictable and everything goes wrong. Predictably.”

“That’s not true. I bet you can’t guess what I’m going to say next.” Hwanwoong stretches, doesn’t wait for a response. “Doesn’t this room smell so good? Today was a good day. Tomorrow’s going to be even better. And these blankets are so soft. What could go wrong right now?”

“Lots of things.”

“Shut up. Go turn off the lights and get in bed. It’s easier to be sappy when it’s dark.”

“Hyung, if you’re going to be weird I’m gonna go back to my old room and sleep on the floor.”

Hwanwoong gestures impatiently at the light. Dongju sighs and follows his instructions. Lights off, he pulls off his socks with his toes and slips into bed. The blankets _are _incredibly soft, but he doesn’t feel like admitting it. Hwanwoong fiddles with his phone, turning on a quiet instrumental playlist. Setting it down next to the book, he speaks up as Dongju is still getting settled.

“So, what’s been upsetting you?”

Dongju pulls the blanket up to his chin. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.” Hwanwoong turns around to face him. “Obviously everyone’s tired. But you’ve looked… off. For a while now.”

Dongju stays silent but turns to mirror Hwanwoong. Face to face, the bed seems to shrink in size, until Dongju feels even closer than in their small twin beds back in their dorm.

“You have to have felt it by now,” Hwanwoong says quietly. “How loved you are.”

Dongju closes his eyes.

“It’s not for nothing,” Hwanwoong continues. “You’re loved for what you do, and who you are. You’re loved because you matter.”

Dongju snorts. “Have you been reading self-help books along with the poetry ones?”

Hwanwoong ignores his scorn. “We’re loved. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dongju finally says. He sighs. “But now it’s a matter of whether I deserve that love or not.”

“Do you think _I _deserve the love?”

“Duh.”

“Do you think the other hyungs do?”

“Of course.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Dongju opens his eyes. They’re now adjusted to the dark, and he can see Hwanwoong stare at him intently. He squirms. “It’s different.”

Even in the dim light, Dongju catches the way Hwanwoong’s gaze shifts. “I can’t make you believe you deserve to be loved.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Dongju whispers.

“I want to help you, though.”

“You already help me a lot,” he admits.

Hwanwoong reaches out to grab his hand. “I’m glad.”

Dongju feels warm all over. “You’re always listening to my troubles. What about you? Is there anything bothering you?” he asks, somewhat to distract himself from the way their fingers are laced together.

“Yeah,” Hwanwoong says, rolling a bit to lie on his back.

A wave of guilt washes over Dongju. He can’t remember the last time he listened to Hwanwoong talk about his troubles, all while he can’t even count the number of times Hwanwoong has listened to him. “What is it?”

“I’m horny all the time.”

Dongju yanks his hand out of Hwanwoong’s grasp. The older cackles.

Dongju throws the blanket half off his body and sits up. “Are you _serious.”_

Hwanwoong, still laughing, yanks Dongju back down, flush against his own body. “I mean, yeah. But I think I’ll live.”

Dongju wiggles a bit to get out of Hwanwoong’s grasp, but he’s sure they can both tell it’s halfhearted. “I’m not going to help you with that,” he says weakly.

“I don’t expect you to,” Hwanwoong repeats Dongju’s words from earlier. He lets go, but Dongju doesn’t move away. The two of them fall silent, tangled in each other. Hwanwoong’s phone starts playing some jazzy instrumental music Dongju doesn’t recognize.

As if in a trance, he finds his hands roaming Hwanwoong’s body. He starts on the shoulders, moves to his back. He can feel the lean muscle beneath the thin shirt, soft curves of firmness under his fingers. He moves them downwards, stupidly surprised by how quickly he reaches the small of his back. He already knows, but he’s once again reminded of how tiny Hwanwoong is, despite his muscles and his fire.

Hwanwoong thumbs at the side of his face, and Dongju is briefly distracted by the feeling of the older tugging at his earlobe before he slots a small thigh between his legs.

Dongju gasps, surprised at the contact and his hyung’s audacity. He’s growing a bit warm now, but he decides to ignore it for a moment, choosing instead to pull his hands around and feel around Hwanwoong’s hips.

He’s still not sure what exactly is going on, whether this is a good idea, whether he’s thinking straight, whether he’s thinking at all, but he’s still a little disappointed at the lack of reaction. Actually, he then realizes, reaction aside, Hwanwoong isn’t moving at all. His leg is more of a dead weight now, brushing against Dongju’s crotch.

Dongju pulls his arms away, takes a good look at him.

Hwanwoong’s asleep.

Dongju blinks. Hwanwoong fell asleep. Like this. He’s a little annoyed, a little annoyingly turned on, but mostly confused. Even more confused than earlier.

He removes Hwanwoong’s leg from between his own, gets up to splash some water on his face. _What the hell was he thinking._

Taking a deep breath, he walks back towards the bed. Contemplates actually leaving to go sleep on Keonhee and Seoho’s floor. If he’s lucky, they might even already be asleep, so he wouldn’t have to explain anything for now.

Hwanwoong’s phone starts playing a guitar version of _City of Stars._ The curtains in the hotel room are a sheer, lacy cream, billowing gently. Hwanwoong must have left the windows open for the nice April night breeze. The sleeping man is backlit by the dark blue light of night, frown lines and dark circles eased with sleep.

Dongju watches him for a bit. Brushes a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He climbs into the bed, finds himself pulling Hwanwoong close, tucking his small body against his own.

Apparently, neither of them move throughout the night. Dongju wakes up to sunlight filtering through the curtains and Hwanwoong breathing against his chest. He checks the time and shakes him awake, knowing they need to be ready soon. Hwanwoong doesn’t mention what happened the past night, so Dongju too pretends to forget.

***

Dongju knows that, given what happened in Japan, they should be more careful. Give each other space.

Neither of them do.

Since Dongju can’t seem to detach himself from Hwanwoong, he instead chooses to attach himself to the other members even more than before; it’s rare he isn’t hanging off of one of the hyungs. Hwanwoong seems to have the same idea, letting the other members hug him and coddle him all the time. Geonhak and Youngjo have no problem with this; they hold Dongju’s hands and let Hwanwoong sit in their laps and baby the two of them with no hesitation. Keonhee gets a weird look in his eye when Dongju’s the one who approaches him for hugs and not the other way around, but he seems to enjoy it well enough. Seoho’s the only one to really notice something’s off, but he doesn’t say anything.

But even with all this, Dongju and Hwanwoong find themselves drawn to each other all the time, ghost touches and small smiles and snarky remarks. It’s not as awkward as Dongju thought it would be. Especially given that they still sleep in each other’s beds more often than not.

Not even more often than not. Dongju can’t recall a single day since Japan that they haven’t ended up together at some point throughout the night, either falling asleep in each other’s arms, or one of them sneaking into the other’s bed in the middle of the night. Nothing escalates like the time in the hotel, but since everyone shares a room, he wonders why no one has confronted either of them about it yet.

He sits on a long couch at the shop, Hwanwoong’s newly blond head in his lap. He’s thoughtlessly combing his fingers through his hair, noting how much rougher and thinner the strands have become. It makes him a bit anxious to bleach his own head later, but he can’t really back out of it now.

Youngjo walks over and plops himself down onto a nearby chair. He smiles at the pair, and Dongju thinks there’s something else behind that smile, but he can’t tell if he’s just being paranoid.

Sifting through the pile of glossy magazines on a nearby table, Youngjo picks out a thin one about Hungarian cooking. He looks up curiously at Dongju, who had been watching a little too intensely. He busies himself stroking Hwanwoong’s head again. Hwanwoong hums softly, content.

Youngjo chuckles. “Don’t go falling in love, kids.”

Dongju pauses. He can’t bring himself to look at Youngjo, so he pretends to be doing his annoying maknae routine and ignoring him. But he can’t ignore when Hwanwoong gets up, letting Dongju’s now still hand drop into his empty lap.

“Don’t worry,” Hwanwoong says, “we won’t.” He makes his way over to Youngjo, briefly looking back at Dongju. He cards a hand through his hair, rustling away the patterns meticulously brushed in by Dongju’s fingers.

Youngjo sets down his magazine and Hwanwoong slides so naturally into his lap, Youngjo’s arms coming to rest around Hwanwoong’s waist. Dongju nearly misses it; his brain is shutting down.

Realization shoots through him like a series of arrows from Cupid’s cliché little bow. Ugly laugh: arrow. Warm hands: arrow. Memories of voices husky in the early morning and chapped lips sharing hidden smiles and falling asleep tangled tightly around each other: arrow, arrow, arrow.

Youngjo is now busy smoothing the wrinkles out of Hwanwoong’s pants, but Hwanwoong isn’t paying him any mind, attention glued to Dongju. His gaze is simultaneously languid yet alert, a feat only Hwanwoong’s eyes could accomplish. Dongju’s brain starts helpfully ticking off all the other things he thinks are unique to the dancer. The bombarding of images of Hwanwoong through all the time they’ve known each other starts to make Dongju’s head spin.

_Fuck, _he realizes, _I’m in love with Yeo Hwanwoong._

***

That night, Dongju bursts into Onewe’s main practice room, giving Yonghoon what might be permanent heart failure. Dongmyeong gives him a worried glance from behind his piano.

“Where is everyone?” Dongju asks.

“We all skipped dinner so they went to grab food,” Dongmyeong says. “Yonghoon-hyung and I were going to join them in a little bit, but we were finalizing this one harmony before we broke for the day.”

“Can I talk to you?”

Dongmyeong looks over at Yonghoon, who’s still clutching at his chest weakly. “Yeah, we were basically done,” he says. He pulls Yonghoon up. “C’mon hyung, why don’t you go join the others. I’ll come by later.”

Yonghoon physically shakes out of his fear. “Hey Dongju,” he says, “hope you’re doing well, though I’m not doing well, because you just took ten years off my life.” His smile is still fond, though, as he walks out the door.

“You’ll have to excuse him, it’s the age,” Dongmyeong jokes. When Dongju doesn’t even crack a smile, he guides him over to the keyboard bench, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “What’s got you so down?”

“I–” Dongju hesitates. He’d trust Dongmyeong with his life, he always has, but he doesn’t want to jeopardize his brother’s standing in the company if something bad happens later. _Something bad happens, _his brain helpfully repeats for him.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Dongmyeong says, when Dongju hasn’t spoken in a minute.

Dongju’s so close to breaking down. “I think I’m in love,” he finally says, insides churning.

Dongmyeong tightens his arm around Dongju. “That’s a lot to handle,” he says softly, simply.

His brother’s grip grounds Dongju, and he feels some of the bubbling panic die down, left with just the nausea and a strange emptiness. “People say love hurts,” he tries to explain, more for himself than for Dongmyeong. “But I don’t think this is pain. I don’t know how to tell you how I feel.”

“You don’t have to tell me exactly. If you need me to help you, I can. Or I can just listen, if that’s what you need.”

“I don’t know what I need,” Dongju says in a tiny voice. Since the two of them hit puberty, his voice has always been lower than his twin’s, but right now it feels like he’s a baby again, held by a Dongmyeong already claimed by adulthood. “I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I’m scared of anything changing. Because I don’t know what’s going on right now, but I don’t want it to change. I’m afraid if I say something, or even do something wrong, I’ll mess it up.”

“That sounds difficult.” Dongmyeong starts rubbing soothing circles into Dongju’s back. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, but, does this other person love you back?”

“No.” Dongju considers all the time they’ve spent together. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dongmyeong stays quiet for a minute, thinking. “You already know you’re an idol,” he starts carefully.

“I know.”

“But,” he continues, “being in love isn’t something wrong. And no matter how the public may try to dictate your life, they don’t have any real control. You’re a real person with real feelings. And for me, and I hope for yourself too, what matters most is that you’re happy.”

Dongju counts the keys on the keyboard to keep himself from drifting away. “I don’t know if confessing will make me happy. I don’t even know if being with this person will make me happy, because I don’t know what it’s like to be with this person at all.”

“We can’t know everything, Dongju.”

“Do you know who it is?” Dongju asks, out of the blue.

“I can guess,” his brother says. He takes his arm away from Dongju’s back. “And if I know you, I know you left without telling anyone, and he’s probably worrying about you right now.”

Dongju sighs and tries to smile at Dongmyeong. “Thanks for making time to talk,” he says.

“I have to, it’s in my contract as your older brother.”

“We’re twins.” Dongju pouts.

“You still act like a child,” Dongmyeong retorts.

Dongju gets up. “Whatever. I hope you eat a lot of tasty food tonight and get fat from it,” he snips, but he feels a lot better. Lighter.

The two of them make their way out of the building together, leaving through the side door they always use. As the door opens, Dongmyeong’s excited chatter dies down as quickly as flame quenched by water.

“What is i–” Dongju also pauses, noticing a small, crouched form on the ground a few feet away.

Dongmyeong gives him a long, inscrutable look, pats him twice on the back hard enough to sting, and walks the other way. A part of Dongju’s brain reminds him that that’s the long way around to get to the store, and he reminds himself to thank his brother later. He approaches the figure.

“Woongie-hyung.”

Hwanwoong looks up. He looks… sad. “Hey, Dongju. What are you doing out here this late?”

“I was talking to Dongmyeong.” Dongju crosses his arms. “What are _you_ doing?”

“Just thinking. I like to come out here to think.”

Dongju settles on the ground next to him. “What are you thinking about?”

Hwanwoong scratches his nose. “You can’t keep Keonhee from stealing snacks. Stars aren’t visible in the daytime. The dinosaurs couldn’t stop the meteor from killing them all off.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“What does?” Hwanwoong stands up and holds out an arm for Dongju to take. “Get up. Let’s dance.”

“Dance?”

“Yeah. I’m in the mood for a good slow dance right now.”

“There’s cameras in those bushes over there.” Dongju still takes the offered hand and gets up. Hwanwoong doesn’t let go of it.

“They’re not security cameras so they turn off at night. One time I smoked here and never got caught.”

“One time doesn’t mean they’re always off! Also wait, you smoke?”

“It was just the one time. Felt like destroying my body and that was the closest I could do without raising concern.” Hwanwoong laughs dryly. “But so what if the cameras are on. What are they going to do, fire us for dancing?”

Dongju frowns at Hwanwoong’s words, tumbling out of his mouth so quickly they jumble into a mess of sound. “I guess not.”

“Alright then.” Hwanwoong places Dongju’s other hand on his hip and grabs his shoulder and immediately starts swaying around.

“Wait. Wait. Do you not have music?”

“The music is better when you imagine it.”

“I don’t listen to very many songs that go with slow dancing.”

Hwanwoong suddenly laughs, loud and shrill. “Then make it up! If it’s in your head, no one can take it from you!”

Dongju holds Hwanwoong down until he stills. “Are you drunk?”

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes. “No, stupid. I’m just trying to learn.”

“Learn how to absolutely lose your mind?”

“Learn how to live a life without regrets.”

“You can’t do that,” Dongju argues.

“How do you know? Have you ever tried?” Hwanwoong starts to sway to nothing again, and this time Dongju sways along.

“I’ve tried so many times,” he mumbles.

“Then maybe you’re not trying hard enough,” Hwanwoong matches his volume. He yanks Dongju in to his imagined rhythm, and Dongju falls against him. Hwanwoong smiles, sets him straight again. With music, Dongju doesn’t really know how to slow dance, and without it, he’s even more lost. He keeps stepping on Hwanwoong’s toes, but to his credit, Hwanwoong doesn’t complain once.

“All you need to do is follow my feet with yours,” he explains. “It’s easier than all of our choreographies, I promise. Just don’t overthink it!” He laughs again and pulls Dongju closer, steers him back and forth and around slowly until Dongju stops stumbling, starts stepping in time with Hwanwoong’s lilting rhythm. He might be humming something under his breath now. Between the crickets and the breeze, Dongju can’t hear the melody, but he feels the sound’s vibrations pass through the air between them.

They sway back and forth on the sidewalk, spinning in and out of the yellow circles of the building’s mounted lamps. If Dongju squints his eyes, the path almost looks like a stage, set up for their secret midnight show. The blur of yellow and dark helps him blur his mind along, worries growing hazy like the outlines of the buildings he can’t quite make out in the distance. _It’s like a movie,_ he thinks, just him and Hwanwoong slipping in and out of the light, revolving around fear and intimacy. Secrecy and love. Love. He changes his mind. This is nothing like a movie; a movie could never catch the way a shiver travels from his hands, where they clutch Hwanwoong’s, to his feet, skimming the ground so lightly he feels dizzy.

Hwanwoong whispers, and his voice carries through the crisp night air as if riding a breath. “This is what we get. Don’t overthink it.”

And Dongju can’t tear his gaze off of Hwanwoong’s eyes, glittering with specks of gold from the streetlamps, but he imagines the stars are glittering just as brightly above them. Maybe it’s his mind’s stars that compel him to pull Hwanwoong even closer, impossibly close, to place his hand around the dancer’s face – maybe it’s the stars that coat Hwanwoong’s lips in an impossible sweetness as Dongju presses his mouth onto that star-powdered smile.

They break apart just moments later, Hwanwoong’s face earnest, questioning.

“I’m not overthinking it,” Dongju says. And for once he’s not lying.

Hwanwoong stays uncharacteristically silent, eyes flicking across Dongju’s face.

“This is all we get, isn’t it?” Dongju leans in again until he’s mere centimeters away. “I wish there were a way for me to have proof. That this happened at all. I want to leave something that matters.” His lips are now brushing Hwanwoong’s. “But this is all I get.” He presses another kiss onto Hwanwoong’s sweet, chapped lips. Another. And another.

Hwanwoong guides them gently into the space between lamplights, lips still pressed against each other. If they move just a little in any direction, spotlights would blind them. In this moment of elusive clarity, Dongju wonders whether they’d be better in the light. Seen. But in this life, in the end of this movie, they choose the dark.

But around them the lights still shine, unfaltering, and the world still moves beneath them, revolving without hesitation. And Hwanwoong doesn’t pull away.

**Author's Note:**

> xiwoong rise


End file.
